


the black sky and all those lights

by playedwright



Series: the universe was made to be seen by our eyes [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by The Martian (Weir), M/M, Nightmares, Pining, Recovery, alternate universe - astronauts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22320877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playedwright/pseuds/playedwright
Summary: It helps, when Richie’s asleep, for Eddie to do his job. When Richie sleeps, Eddie pokes and prods and examines and takes notes, and Richie isn’t awake to see Eddie’s eyes fill with tears every time he finds a new horror on Richie’s body.Richie is a canvas for survival, and it is traceable through the sores on his body and the bruises on his chest and the way that Eddie can count his ribs. He is a testament of endurance. His body practically sings the story of everything he has overcome to get here today. It breaks Eddie’s fucking heart looking at him.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: the universe was made to be seen by our eyes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565464
Comments: 37
Kudos: 594





	the black sky and all those lights

**Author's Note:**

> this is originally posted on [tumblr](https://rchtoziers.tumblr.com/post/190313293080/14-20-44-andor-54-in-your-goddamned-martian) as a prompt fill for the lovely and wonderful [dev](https://gczebos.tumblr.com/) but i decided to edit it up a bit and post it in part of this series for funsies. SO this is a "cut" scene from [let me name the stars for you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21348391/chapters/50847964) that occurs right after the rescue in chapter nine!!

Richie had been floating between conscious and unconscious since before Eddie had even started his initial physical exam; it’s only gotten worse since Eddie gave him painkillers, knocking him out hard in the middle of sentences and waking him up groggy and disoriented minutes later.

It helps, when Richie’s asleep, for Eddie to do his job. He’d gotten Richie out of his old EVA suit and had practically shoved Richie into the shower, trying to stave off the worst of the smell before getting started on examining him. Now when Richie sleeps, Eddie pokes and prods and examines and takes notes, and Richie isn’t awake to see Eddie’s eyes fill with tears every time he finds a new horror on Richie’s body.

Richie is a canvas for survival, and it is traceable through the sores on his body and the bruises on his chest and the way that Eddie can count his ribs. He is a testament of endurance. His body practically sings the story of everything he has overcome to get here today. It breaks Eddie’s fucking heart looking at him.

Eddie's just hooked Richie up to the portable EKG on board when Richie starts to stir again, returning back to consciousness slowly.

“No,” Richie mumbles, voice thick. His head shifts but his eyes don’t open. “Wait.”

Eddie pushes himself away from the machine and comes to Richie’s bedside. In what’s probably a fit of insanity, Eddie reaches forward and brushes Richie’s wet curls off his forehead. He promises, in a gentle voice, "We can wait as long as you need, Rich."

“Wait,” Richie says again, brokenly—Eddie’s heart leaps into his throat. Richie’s torso jerks to the side and a soft whimper of pain escapes his lips. “Guys. _Guys_. Please, don’t—don’t _leave_ me behind _—_ ”

_Fuck_. Richie’s dreaming.

“Hey, Richie,” Eddie calls out. He strokes Richie’s forehead again and puts his other hand flat on Richie’s shoulder to try and hold him still. “Hey. Wake up, it’s just a dream.”

“Guys!” Richie cries out. His shoulder pushes against Eddie’s hand as he tries to lash out again. Eddie thinks he might throw up. “Stop, I’m still here! Guys! Please don’t leave me, I’m still alive! _Guys,_ please!"

Eddie is _certain_ he’s going to throw up.

_He’s dreaming about the day we left_ , Eddie realizes desperately, the very thought of it churning his stomach and his chest and his throat, and Eddie puts both his hands on Richie’s shoulders now to hold him down and stop him from hurting himself worse. Eddie's heart is breaking, breaking, broken, and the pieces are falling from his chest, and none of it _matters_ because Richie is hurting and Eddie doesn’t know how to fix it.

“Richie, come back to me,” Eddie says urgently. He shakes Richie’s shoulders. “You’re here, we’re here. We didn’t leave you. We got you, we _have_ you.”

“Eddie,” Richie gasps, and he tries to lurch up again. Eddie holds him down then presses a hand to Richie’s jaw, shaking his head and praying to god that it wakes him up. “Eddie—!”

“I’m here, Richie, I’m fucking here!” Eddie yells. Something wet drips onto Richie’s cheek and Eddie realizes with a shock that he’s _crying_. “Fuck, Richie, I’m right here, wake up!”

Minutes or hours or years could pass but finally Richie stops straining against Eddie’s arms and relaxes into the bed. His expression smooths and there’s a moment, just one moment, where he stays peacefully asleep and Eddie sucks in a gasping, frantic breath. He takes that short moment where Richie is slowly waking up but still unaware to suck in desperate breath after breath, hoping that one of them finally calms the pounding of his heart.

Eddie is still wiping at his face when Richie‘s eyes groggily start to open.

“Wh—“ he murmurs. His glasses are somewhere on Eddie’s work station, which feels like it’s practically a million miles away. Richie squints at him. “Eds?”

“Only you would have fucking nightmares when you’re unconscious, Richie,” Eddie snaps, but his voice breaks and he wipes quickly at his cheeks again before the new tears can stain his face, and all of it is for naught anyway because Richie’s face crumples in another instant and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“I scared you,” Richie says. He sounds so unlike himself, so unfamiliar, that Eddie once again feels like he’s going to be sick. “Fuck.”

“You didn’t scare me,” Eddie argues, but it sounds weak to his own ears. “It was just a nightmare, Richie, Jesus Christ. You’re allowed to have fucking nightmares.”

“You used to make fun of people in movies that woke up from nightmares like that,” Richie accuses. He opens one eye and blinks at Eddie.

“I used to do a lot of things,” Eddie agrees. “Different when it’s you, though, dipshit. Obviously.”

It's a bit too honest, a bit too close to something Eddie's still too terrified to admit, but in this instance he doesn't really care. They've just gotten Richie back, after months without him, after _months_ of being certain he was gone, and Eddie feels that he is allowed to be a little sappy. He's _allowed_ to be a little bit hung up over it. Anyone would feel like this, he reasons, and he has just gotten back his best friend in the world and the one person he has thought about for eighteen months straight. _Obviously,_ he thinks, and there's a double meaning there but it doesn't matter because any meaning of it is enough, right now. 

“Obviously,” Richie echoes. Both of his eyes open and he stares owlishly back at Eddie. “Oh. ‘m still so tired. Am I still on drugs?”

Eddie lets out a hysteric laugh, unable to stop it. He wipes his face with his shirt one last time. “Yeah, you’re still on a lot of drugs,” he says. “Are you in pain? I can up your dosage.”

“No,” Richie says drowsily. “Wanna remember this.”

“Remember what? Waking up in a panic from a fucking nightmare?”

Richie blinks at him again, looking at Eddie like he thinks Eddie is a fucking idiot. He thinks it’s amazing, how Richie can fluctuate between emotions and expressions so fast; he thinks it’s maybe a little pathetic on his end that it makes his heart skip a beat in his chest.

The little Richie idiosyncrasies he had forgotten about, all coming back to him in full force, all overwhelming and annoying and _amazing_. Eddie would take it a thousand times over as long as it meant that he was with Richie again.

“Don’t wanna forget your face, Spaghetti,” Richie says, like it’s obvious. He gives Eddie a dopey grin. “All worried ‘n concerned. Face all pinched. S’cute.”

Eddie flushes. “Please pass out again,” Eddie begs.

“Nope,” Richie says.

There’s a small smile on his face, though, when he does inevitably fall back asleep a few minutes later. It’s much better than the anguish Eddie had seen written so clearly there before. Besides, Eddie’s got a small smile on his face, too, so he knows he truthfully has no room to judge.

Richie’s _back_. They’ve all got a long and winding road ahead of them, but he’s here. He’s back where he belongs.

Eddie brushes Richie’s curls back off his forehead one last time, then gets back to work.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [tumblr](https://rchtoziers.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/SPACERICHlE) if you want to come say hello!


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